~A Parting Song~

Make things beautiful even at worse of times;
Sing your songs even as you go out of rhymes.

Not everyday there will be rain;
Sometimes smile will be replaced by pain.

It doesn’t matter how many times you hug me;
But refrain yourself from saying the final goodbye.
You really have to live for each moment;
And in love, for nobody you have to die.

The tides of time can take us far;
I’m not good swimmer and can get drown.
But hey! You swim to the shore;
Because you have to find out jewels many more.

Life is beautiful; if this you have understood;
Then I have achieved what I thought I should.

Never cry for me, if I am not with you;
Hold me in your heart as grass holds dew.
No matter if I vaporize as the life’s heat increases with day;
I will always leave you fresh, happy and gay.

Promise me to smile always and feel the world’s beauty;
With my sight deep inside your eyes; it’s now your eternal duty.

HARD TIMES..

The ivory boat; you jumped in; I followed the trail.
You smiled at me then fluttered the sublime sail.
The sky was clear azure with soothing gale.

Then the ship wrecked in the voyage to paradise,
When was dropped this anchor of hard times?


The child in me cried with soundless wails,
Petrified, he sees the thrusting coffin nails.
Now even the demure light dies, it evaporates.

And they say pay the bills for these hard times.
Is it my crime? Is it my vice? That we live in these hard times?


The love that we believed in, how it failed me?
How it turned into a poisonous seed?
For it bears doleful weed with dead leaves.

And you say it will happen coz autumn is nigh; sigh!
“Aye, Song will be out of rhyme; dear! These are hard times.”


Can you kill my heart to abate this pain?
Drown me down in the sea of bane?
You could, but I can’t come undone from the burning rain.

I have burnt for long with my desires; now ember flies.
Everything is charred in the inferno of hard times.

PROLIFIC LOSER

Prolific loser, is that me,
How to define who is ‘me’?
To be churlish and to be sublime,
Want everything at a given time.

Loser because all I used to hold
Was stolen or I get it sold.
Selling them, the things that I found,
Was to be mine, it was fortune bound.

Prolific is the manner I loose,
So many choices, always worst I choose.

I wander on the sand of time,
In my fist I hold a dime.
This dime is painted blue,
Oh! Tell me is that you?

Prolific loser! I have lost everything.
‘Prolific loser’; this tag stings.

Oh! But if this dime, that I have saved
From this gloating world, miseries and pains.
Oh! If this dime is YOU,
I am a winner who had his due.

OuT Of The WiLd

Sleepy grey with a tinge of glint;

Footprints on the damp soil;

Gush of wind chasing wilderness;

The blackness hides crooked questions' coil.

The phantom throngs never depart;

and the deafening Babel rain;

the directions misleading the course;

as I change the tread again.

Farther, the landscape entice;

but tired limbs betray;

I oppose the tease and garner strength;

“No more wander; Here, I stay."

And then I felt the beauty;

It blinds;

I am through now.

I am out of the wild.

TRAVELER

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

To carry on the show;

I tasted height; flew in air;

Now have to rise from the floor;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

The river is wild but had to row;

the wildness will hide after time;

The calmness will reside in the flow;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.....

and It happened before you know;

if I stop I will be with nothing;

If I move; I don’t know where to go.

But still I believe in your say;

I had to leave the bay;

and swim the dead sea,

Walk the desert with bruised toe;

Gotta go gotta go gotta go.

About Me....... a Picture...Imperfect...

Standing in front of mirror, I just gazed.
A figure so hazy around, I was completely dazed.
The paint so lost, the paper in shreds;
but still shinning golden frame.
I scratched my head & strolled for long
in my forgotten memory lanes.
I knew him damn! I know him yeah,
but can't recollect the name.
Do you know him; tell if you know me,
Come & bring me out of this puzzling pain.

I checked my eyes, have I lost my sight,
Turned back and saw lovely prizes won in life.

All over the wall, I saw the pictures of my friends,
The splendid years of life, with whom I had spend.
These wonderful pictures which I placed in costly frames,
They had faces that I can't remember, Oh! What a piteous shame.

These were the pictures of trust; they smiled at my every joke.
My broken dreams they shared, crying my tears as their own.
How easily but I let them go & was forced to live forlorn.
But that time thought, “Hey! On Earth wasn't I born alone?”
This mirror man! Wasn’t he companion of my fate?
See the irony now; I have messed up even his name.

I saw again the mirror; saw through the labyrinth of eyes,
They looked as mine, but damn! No higher the curtain rise.

Alas! So lost was I, in making my golden frame,
To place my picture in best, I bore so much pain.
The frame was gained & was prettiest of all,
But the person in my picture, how was he called?

So if about the man in mirror you have any lead,
Come and please tell the noun about me!!!!

The Rose and the Nightingale....

It was a sweet summer, with shining raindrops,

The streets were Barren, without any mobs;

In this season of love,came upon a nightingale;

In a garden lavishly holding,drops on flowers like spangle.

The Nightingale came flying, from far off lands,

Had traveled through mountains,rivers and sands;

The bird felt tired, so rested on a tree,

Sang a melodious song, which spell bounded everybody;

Every leaf applauded the song, as did every flower,

The praise inspired her and she sang with all her power.

In the midst of these there was a white rose,

That it was prettiest of all, everybody supposed;

The nightingale opened its eyes after the song,

And saw the white rose among the throng;

In the first sight the cupid struck.

The nightingale saw the beauty dumbstruck.

The love bitten Nightingale, went to the rose,

Holding true love in her heart,to him she proposed;

The Rose in his pride and arrogance,

Did not heed to the bird’s plight;

Instead told the bird that he’ll love her,

When from the dull white he will become reddish bright.

She looked to the rose with the tearful eyes,

And with a smile surmounting painful sigh

Embraced the flower hurriedly,

tearing her body with the spikes & winning the bet,

As everyone saw the blood oozing out of nightingale's body,

that had made the flower red.

The rose saw the pure & unselfish affection of the bird,

and cried like he has gone mad,

As the bird has filled his heart with love,

but in front of him, on ground, she lay dead.

Every passing day, the rose cried of this woeful crime,

And never let anybody touch him in all his life time;

This is just not a heart wrenching story,

but an eternal love tale

Of the white rose and his beloved,

The Nightingale.